


Volatile

by coldwarqueer



Series: Do Not Feed The Dead [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Sex, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwarqueer/pseuds/coldwarqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there were any number of encounters that included possible death, Locus would rank ones with other humans far more lethal than those with zombies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volatile

If there were any number of encounters that included possible death, Locus would rank ones with other humans far more lethal than those with zombies. **  
**

Zombies were predictable. They were drawn by noise, picked up on movement, active in dark areas, and mostly just wanted to constantly shove meat in their mouths. They were just zombies. Mindless pieces of rotting meat who wanted to consume anything with a heartbeat. Destroy the cranium and it was done. Without a brain they had no function, and thus they would die. 

Humans were definitely not predictable. 

Humans were a risk. Humans had guns, humans created noise, humans had emotions and goals and ideas. They looked at other humans as potential rivals or potential partners, and Locus strove to minimize his contact with them at all costs. If anything, he preferred the zombies. 

Which was exactly why he didn't want to be staring down the barrel of a gun that was attached to a very alive human hand.

"Put down the gun." Locus had his hands up, held out like he were approaching a doe. "I mean no harm. I was only looking for supplies."

"Man, let the bodies cool down you fucking vulture." The young man held his gun steady and leered. "Who are you?"

"My name is Locus. I'm military. I was one of the first wave of relief soldiers after the outbreak." Locus was wary to lower his hands. He didn't want to be accidentally shot because he happened to make any sudden movements. "You?"

"Felix. Fat lot of good you did when shit started going down. Didn't even kill the fuckers spreading the virus. Not that it matters to me." Felix snorted and shook his head. "I was with those people you seemed so keen on looting just now."

"I meant only to take what they had left behind."

"You meant to pick 'em clean."

Locus stared at the gun. It was filthy, he noted. He returned his gaze to Felix. "And you are any better?"

"At least I knew them."

The young man lowered the gun and grunted, then ratcheted his head to the side. His arms weren't nearly as stiff as a moment ago and Locus watched him easily take aim and shoot. The shot causes Locus to jump and clutch at his chest. A pump of adrenaline kept him on his toes as he turned to see what had been shot. 

A deer. It was a deer. Shot right through the eye.

Felix was a damn good shot it seemed. 

"The lady turned," Felix said as he slung his gun over his shoulder. Locus lamented the shape the gun was in, and how Felix hadn't even bothered to turn the safety off. That was an accident waiting to happen. Locus followed Felix at a safe distance, as they approached the deer. "Me and her were friends."

"Friends?"

"Friends." Felix rose his fingers in mocking quotation, before he promptly pointed at his crotch. "The guys were assholes. Her kid was annoying. They weren't my favorite group of people."

Locus made a note that they were not the first group Felix had been with apparently. He circled around Felix as he reached for his recorder. He started recounting the tale immediately, finding Felix looking up at him, rather annoyed. 

"Get off your toy and come help haul this fucking body, you prick." Locus shut off his recording at that point and helped Felix hold the deer while it was promptly gutted and then hoisted up. "I don't know if you're going to stick around, but I'll be kind enough to part with some venison."

* * *

The deer was good. It was fresh, and unspoiled meat was a delicacy at that point. Locus nibbled on pieces of meat that had been fried up in a pan, staring at Felix and thumbing the safety on and off his gun. 

He didn't trust Felix.

"Still staring?" Felix licked his fingers clean between words. "What? Do I have to get naked to actually get you to speak to me?"

Locus turned his head, ignoring the comment and staring at his gun. He wouldn’t say he was bitter, but there were so many questions he had. He glanced over, just in time to see Felix reaching for the fire, sleeve sliding up to reveal a telling mark on his arm.

He took his chance. Locus snatched Felix by the arm and yanked his sleeve up. He examined the uneven marks, healed and scabbing. “You’re bitten.”

There was an alarmed look on Felix’s face before he yanked his arm back. “Don’t touch me, you prick.” He rubbed the place Locus had gripped, pushing his shoulders back in a defensive manner. “So what if I’m bitten?”

“That’s how you turn.”

“Bit late for that. Wanna see the other bites? I’ve got like, three more.”

Locus was repulsed, but intrigued. He leaned in, leering at Felix like her were some kind of science experiment. “Show me.” He wanted to know if they were genuine bites, because the one on Felix’s arm was too old, too closed to be fresh. It had to be a week old, if not older. Felix should have turned.

“Got this one from a kid, when I was too naive to start bashing brains in.” Felix rolled up one pantleg, showing locus a healed up bite wound, small and innocuous. Definitely a child’s teeth. Felix rolled up his sleeve more, showing two bites above the first. “This one I got like, two months ago. This one was from a couple weeks ago, a biter clipped me.”

Felix stopped when he pointed to what looked like the oldest one.

“What?” Locus pressed, eager to hear Felix’s war stories. However intriguing it was, Felix was… suspicious.

“That one’s from my dad.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Locus felt uneasy then, hearing Felix so blatantly throwing out something that Locus could choose to take advantage of. Felix was opening up a spot of vulnerability. He felt like it was a test, to see if he would. “So you’re telling me you cannot turn?”

“Haven’t since I was bitten the first time,” Felix said, shrugging off the question. “That was back when we didn’t know the virus was spread by bites. So, I just through my dad went nuts. Had to kill him. Stabbed him like thirty times, I was crying like a bitch. Didn’t really take til I stabbed him in the face.”

Locus could only imagine the trauma it took to force Felix to be to blunt about it. “Again, I am sorry for your loss.” He glanced back down to his gun, reaching into his pocket for a cloth. His eyes wandered to Felix’s filthy gun, and reached for it.

Felix didn’t stop him; he only watched as Locus slowly dismantled the gun, setting all the pieces on a nearby stump. Locus looked up from where he had begun cleaning, meeting Felix’s eyes. “You need to take better care of your weapons.”

“Guess now I have someone to do that for me.” A smirk twitched at Felix’s lips and Locus frowned. He felt like he had just been used.

* * *

“You’re a good shot,” Locus said as he pulled up his binoculars, staring at the bullet hole right between the latest zombie’s eyes. “Even in the military I haven’t found anyone that good.”

“When I used to go to like, youth camps in the summer and shit between my job and drawing garbage in my schoolbooks, we always had archery. And Halo was always my favorite series.” Felix swiveled his gun, shooting another zombie. They were settled on a roof, picking off zombies one by one. Normally Locus would have preferred to save ammo, but they’d made a lucky find in the apartment buildings they had scavenged. “I just did it all until I got good.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Git good, son,” Felix laughed, looking over his shoulder at Locus with that grin of his. Locus couldn’t help but find himself smiling in return.

* * *

“So like, where were you stationed?” Felix asked as they walked. The wilderness was mostly devoid of the dead. Any dead that they did happen across were usually weak and starving.

“I was never deployed,” Locus admitted. He mulled the thought, shifting his wait, as if he found the question awkward. “I spent much of my time on the military base, doing drills, training, etc.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Are you telling me civilian life isn’t boring?”

“I never said that. Just said what you did is exceptionally boring.” Felix slung his rifle over his arm and took aim at a zombie a ways off. Locus grabbed the gun and lowered it. “What?”

“Save your bullets.” Locus shook his head. They couldn’t afford to be swarmed by zombies right then. “Let it be.” 

“Are you sayin’ this thing should live?” There was something bitter in Felix’s words. Locus heaved a sigh. Felix was looking at him with those sharp eyes that questioned authority and morals. Locus was forced to think.

“I’m saying you should save your bullets.” Locus reached into his belt instead and tossed Felix a hunting knife. It wasn’t his favorite method, he did prefer shooting. He didn’t consider himself a crack shot, but he could keep up with Felix well enough with the right amount of focus.

Felix caught it, fumbling with the hilt and then grinning. “See that? I am fucking awesome. I just caught a knife.”

Locus had a nagging feeling he should find out how old Felix was.

* * *

Locus stared at the notebook in his bag. He had meant to use it for notes, but the more he learned about Felix, the more he was willing to part with something as a gift. He found a scarcely used pen, and marched across their small camp, holding them out to Felix.

Felix had been begrudgingly cleaning his gun, looking up to see the peace offering. “What’s this.”

“You told me you like to do art,” Locus told him. “I had these. You can put them to better use than I can.”

“When did I tell you that?” Felix looked like he hadn’t ever expected Locus to really listen to anything he had said about himself. There was a hint of suspicion.

“I listen, Felix.” Locus nodded and prompted Felix with the gift. “Take them. You need a hobby.” Felix needed it more than him. He could tell the poor boy would go mad with boredom if he had to sit and clean that gun one more time.

As Felix took the notebook he looked back up, squinting up at Locus. “Like, you’re just giving this to me. Nothing out of it. It’s a gift.”

“You have nothing to give me in return that I want,” Locus said. His brow furrowed as he watched Felix pull the notebook in, holding it close, like he were protective of it. “Take it, Felix. It’s yours.”

Locus hoped that would be the end of that; Felix’s suspicions didn’t sit well with him for some reason. When he sat back down, getting ready to stoke up a fire to cook a meal, he saw Felix staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Felix shrugged and looked back down to the notebook, where he was already sketching.

* * *

“What are you drawing?” Locus was genuinely curious. It seemed to be all that Felix did when they made camp for the nights. They had set up shop in an old shed this time, one they could easily barricade, and would give them shelter from the rain outside.

“You want to see?” Felix looked up from where he was propped up against the wall, flipping the pages of the notebook. “I hate lined paper, but I mean, thanks for this.”

Locus found himself taking the seat beside Felix and looking over his shoulder. The sketches, while rough, were photorealistic enough that Locus had a hard time realizing they were in pen. As Felix thumbed through pages, he found he was the subject of many sketches. “You’ve been drawing me.”

“I like drawing things that are alive,” Felix said as he stopped on one picture. It was of Locus standing with his gun in hand, staring off, focused on something in another direction. “You’re one of the most constant alive things I see, these days.”

“You’ve very good.” Locus had a feeling he should be flattered, being the subject of Felix’s artistic influence.

“I was an art major. I only got to go for one semester though,” Felix said as he stared down at the notebook. “I wanted to be a tattoo artist. My dad told me he would stab me if I did that. Ironic, hunh?”

Locus was inclined to believe Felix was lying, but he just nodded. “I’m sorry.” The infection had taken everything from Felix. Family, friends, even prospective futures and dream careers.

“I wanted to get a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday.” Felix shrugged as he finally looked up. “Dad wouldn’t pay for it. So I started saving up. I had a design and everything.” He paused and finally looked directly at Locus. “I always wanted all the art on my body to be mine. No one else’s.”

“What about your mother?” Locus asked, genuinely curious. Felix talked often of his father, but never of his mother.

“I dunno, she and my dad divorced when I was like eleven. She moved a few states away. Saw her on holidays and sometimes in the summer.” Felix didn’t sound particularly thrilled to talk about it. “I haven’t talked with her for like three years now. Pretty sure she’s dead.”

Locus nodded solemnly. “You’ve seen a lot of loss, Felix.”

“That’s kind of what happens when the zombie apocalypse hits,” Felix said with another shrug. He turned back to his notebook. He paused with the pen, and turned back. He didn’t say anything, just reached out to take Locus by the arm and pull him in.

Locus felt like he should have been surprised by the kiss. He pulled away briefly to exhale, shaky and sudden, before he slowly leaned back into another.

Felix dropped the notebook and pen, putting both hands on Locus’ body, pulling him in, pulling him closer. He pulled Locus closer, enough that Locus was nearly on top of him.

“Wait-” Locus pushed away, turning his head. “Wait, we need to-”

“Just shut up, okay?” Felix took charge instead, pushing forward until he was forcing Locus to lean back, their bodies pressing together, hot and close. He wrapped both hands around the back of Locus’ neck as they kissed again. “You just need to shut up for a bit.”

Locus wished he had the strength to tell Felix it was a bad idea. Already he found himself giving in, responding and returning the friction and affection Felix was giving. “Do you have a condom?” Locus breathed in between kisses, leaving red marks on Felix’s jaw and clawing at his sides and his hips. He had his nose nestled in the nook between Felix’s jaw and neck when he gasped, Felix’s hand sliding into his pants.

“Who needs a condom?” Felix laughed, breathless as he fought against Locus’ pants. There was no hesitation from Felix. Locus knew he should stop, should force Felix to look through his packs, because he knew Felix had condoms, he knew Felix had saved some. He couldn’t bring himself to stop Felix from touching him.

Locus found himself turning his head to the door they had barricaded. Having Felix on the floor of an old shed, with nothing but two sleeping bags and a few blankets, was not how he had imagined the next time he would have sex.

“Hey.” Felix pulled his head back, forcing Locus to focus. “We’re alright. They’re not getting through.”

“There’s no guarantee,” Locus said, a hint of anxiety in his voice. He never felt safe these days. He especially didn’t feel safe when he was getting naked and had his guard down.

“I want you to just forget about the zombies for a sec,” Felix told him, something grating on his tone. He took Locus’ hands and pulled him forward, pushed his hands onto his body and urged Locus to feel him. “Forget about the dead guys walking around. Forget about imminent death and a fate worse than it.”

Felix brushed a strand of Locus’ hair behind his ear, untucked from his ponytail. “Forget about them and focus on me.”

Locus shivered as his belt was undone and his pants were pushed down. Felix’s cold hands pulled him forward, until his knees rested on either side of Felix’s hips.

“Forget about them.” Felix tugged their bodies together, until they were creating heat and sparks. “Because I don’t want to think about everyone who’s died. I want to think about you.” Felix guided his hand over his waist, down over his hip, crossing his thigh, until Felix trapped his hand between his legs and stifled a groan. “I just want to feel good. For once, since the fucking world went to shit, I just want to feel good, Locus.”

Locus had no doubt Felix had felt “good” countless times before him. Felix never hid his sexual nature, his promiscuity, even his unsafe habits. But god, Locus wanted to believe he hadn’t felt good since the outbreak. Locus wanted to believe he and he alone could make Felix feel good in the death that surrounded them.

“Don’t- don’t be stupid,” Locus murmured, an uncharacteristic stutter taking over him. He leaned in, nestling his face in Felix’s neck, burying his words and his worries. “I’ll make you feel good, Felix.”

There was a struggle against their clothes, and then their boots. Locus didn’t want to kick off his shoes, lest they need to make a quick exit. Their only door was boarded up, and their exit through the roof was closed up tight. He should have no reason to worry about an attack. Not when Felix was laid out for him, so ready and so eager.

“Lube’s in my bag,” Felix said, mouthing a kiss over Locus’ cheek. He resisted Locus pulled up, didn’t want to let him go, even if it were only a few feet.

Locus rifled through Felix’s bag, found the lube and felt Felix pulling on his shirt, trying to draw him back. He clutched the bottle tight, and stared at the condoms in Felix’s bag.

“Locus-” Felix whined, his cold hands sliding under Locus’ shirt and urging him back, nails digging into his skin. Locus turned his head, meeting Felix’s kiss, and gasping as he felt teeth on his lips.

It struck him how much trust there was, to let someone bite him when he was so vulnerable. There was trust in letting Felix bite his lips and kiss his neck and leave hickeys on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let someone so close.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Locus told him, tilting his head to meet Felix in another kiss. He pushed Felix down, falling with him onto the sleeping bags. He fumbled with the lube, trying not to stop kissing Felix as he did so. He didn’t want to stop touching him; he didn’t want to lose that contact.

“Then fuck me,” Felix demanded, yanking open the buttons of Locus’ flannel. He smoothed his palms over Locus’ chest, then curled around his sides and pulled him in, until they were flush against each other. “God, Locus, fuck me.”

As nervous as he was, Locus moved smooth and fluid, working Felix open with slick fingers and watching him turn his head away, hand over his mouth. Locus was about ask if Felix was alright when he was cut off, “Fuck, just fuck me, I can’t take all this waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking around?” Felix hissed, yanking Locus on top of him. “God, and you just wait, after this I’m going to put you on your stomach and fuck the shit out of you.”

“I would prefer to be on my back,” Locus told him, hiding a laugh with another kiss. He wanted to see Felix when they fucked. He never wanted for a moment for Felix to forget who was making him feel so good.

Locus moved slow. He savored the touch of their hips, pushing into Felix in one smooth, gentle motion. There was a warmth there he couldn't describe, soft and pulsing. He leaned in, pushing his face into Felix's neck and sliding an arm under Felix's back. He lifted him, pulling him closer.

"Fuck-" Felix trembled under Locus, arms draped over his back and claws digging in. "Just... Stop for a sec."

Locus held his breath. When it came out it shuddered and he found himself curling in on Felix. He pressed against him, hoping to fill up any space in between their bodies. "Are you alright?"

"No- fuck, no I'm not okay." Felix cinched his arms around Locus' shoulders. Locus was tempted to pull out, to stop, to let Felix recover and go slower. As he moved to pull away his partner held him tight. 

"Don't let go."

Locus didn't question. He shifted his weight and tried not to move too much, lest he cause Felix more pain. Felix's hand on his bicep stopped him. 

"It doesn't hurt," Felix whispered, breath heavy and the slightest tremble in his words. "Just... Fuck, just don't let go."

Locus didn't. He kissed Felix and shifted his hips, then pulled Felix's leg tighter over his waist. He didn't want Felix to be in pain. He wanted the opposite of that. His chest ached with the thought that he could be causing Felix any discomfort.

A short gasp came from Felix, still holding him tight. Locus stopped, holding himself above Felix and pulling off to finally allow space between them. 

"Felix." Locus supported himself on one forearm, using the other to force Felix to look at him. He hesitated upon seeing Felix's tears, that he then tried to hide. 

"Fuck, just..." Felix curled his face into the crook of his arm, a small gasp for air peeling out of his lips. "It's been a while, okay?"

"Since you've been with someone?" Locus knew that wasn't true. Felix talked about his conquests often, usually just to pull an annoyed look from his partner.

"Since it's felt this good."

There was a tremble in Felix's breath. Locus waited for him, until his hands were pulling at Locus' waist and he was urging him to move with quick motions. He started slow; he didn't want to overwhelm Felix again. 

Every breath Felix exhaled was like a knife, cutting through the air in ragged heaves. Locus couldn't help but think how eerily similar it sounded to the dead, resembling that of someone about to turn. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. 

Locus curved Felix's hips up, hand on his thigh as he moved with him. Their bodies fit together like pieces of metal, scraping and grinding to make sparks. 

"You have to promise," Felix whispered, his hand finding Locus'. There was a gap where Felix whimpered and gasped, Locus' hips settling still against him. "You have to promise not to leave me."

Locus wanted to ask if Felix requested this of everyone he slept with. He stayed his tongue and leaned down to catch Felix in kiss. "I promise," he told Felix, pressing his forehead against Felix’s. "I promise, Felix. I will never leave you."

Felix released a choked sob and curled against him. He slid his arms up over Locus' back, nails digging in and gouging out deep red marks. "Fuck me, Locus. God, please fuck me."

Locus leaned in to give Felix a tender kiss. He pressed himself full against him, sliding himself into Felix with more focus than force. There was a gentle gasp from his partner and Locus eased himself along, until he was pressing himself against a spot that made Felix tremble and go weak. 

"I will never leave you," Locus whispered, framing Felix's face. "I will never leave you, Felix."

There was a heavy gasp, and then a low sigh, before Felix kissed him. "Shut up."

When Locus came it wasn't like fireworks. It was like gentle waves lapping over him, until they rolled over his chest and set something loose. He nestled his face into Felix's neck, hearing his partner mewl and muffle his whines. 

There was a moment when Locus pulled back, where Felix was nothing but a painting. Panting and heaving and every bit a piece of art. Locus kissed his chest and rested his head there, eyes closed. "I don't want to leave you, Felix."

* * *

"I miss hot showers," Felix huffed out against Locus' neck, curled around him in the sleeping bag. They had cleaned themselves up, Felix had wiped away his tears and pretended they hadn't happened, and they were enjoying some peace and quiet. There were no screams of the dead, no bustling about outside, nothing. It was quiet, and it was peaceful. 

"Such conventional things," Locus murmured into his pillow. He was only half listening to Felix's whispers. Felix, such a material person, who valued showers and chocolate and a soft bed. 

Locus would be a liar if he said he didn't miss those things either. 

"I miss money. I miss real actual money that was worth something. I miss my mom's fresh biscuits..." Felix trailed off. "I miss riding my bike to work." They laced their fingers together. Locus wondered if Felix was even interested in what Locus missed about before the outbreak, or if he was just rattling off whatever thoughts came to mind. "I miss my dog. I miss shooting BB guns at the neighbor's cat. I miss kissing my neighbor's daughter in my dad's garage."

Locus shifted, until he was on his other side, facing Felix. He curled his arms around him. Felix kept talking, "I miss waking up on Saturday and just laying there. I miss not having to keep moving."

Felix paused, and pushed his head into the crook of Locus' neck again. "I miss waking up without being afraid."

Locus squeezed Felix's hand. He wasn't sure what he missed. There wasn't a lot he had held so dear. No friends or family, no pets, no nothing. Just his guns and his training. 

"I miss waking up on the army base," Locus said quietly, "I miss alarms. I miss the structure."

"I miss my mom." The sudden confession was jarring. Locus tensed as Felix shook against him, holding in something terrible that beat against his ribs and fluttered to get out. "I miss my parents."

Locus was reminded he still had no idea how old Felix was. Felix mentioned work, mentioned school, and Locus was certain he was barely out of public school. Felix still lived at home, still depended on others. 

Locus wrapped Felix up in his arms, rubbing his shoulders and soothing his shaking. "I miss hunting real animals."

"I miss TV dinners," Felix murmured from where he was nestled. "And TV."

"I miss watching the weather report on stormy nights."

"I miss listening to the rain in bed."

Locus couldn't think of anything else he missed. He couldn't think of anything that made him want to go back. Of course he hated the infection, but there was still nothing left for him before. 

And despite how there was nothing for him before, Felix was the best thing that had happened to him.

* * *

“Locus, look at me!”

When he looked up, Locus found Felix balancing on the tip of a pointed fence post, balancing two knives, one in each hand, blade down. He frowned, brow clenched and lips pursed. “Felix. Get down from there.”

“No way.” Felix tossed the knives up, before catching them, and then sheathing them expertly. He had really grown attached to the knives.

“How _old_ are you?” Locus asked, irritation spreading through his words like water on paper. 

“Is it May yet?” Felix asked, shrugging off the question. When Locus shook his head no, he went on, “Then I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Locus parroted.

“May 28th is my birthday.” Felix jumped down onto the ground beside Locus. “I’ll be 19.”

Felix was still a child, barely legal, and Locus felt like he had taken advantage of him. His thoughts were interrupted by his partner, “How old are you? Old? Like, super old?”

“I turned 31 three months ago,” Locus told him.

“Yeah, you’re old.” Felix didn’t seem bothered by the age difference, just smiled and shrugged it off. “Kinda fucked up we celebrated our birthdays surrounded by death, hunh?”

Locus found himself conjuring up a smile. Felix’s nonchalance about their ages helped him recover some of that lost confidence. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

* * *

Locus felt nauseous. Normally the nausea wouldn’t bother him, but constantly facing zombies at every turn made him paranoid. He could only worry himself more as he checked himself over twice, for any bites or scratches, any blood that could have spattered on him.

The nausea itself wouldn’t have been a problem, if he hadn’t felt anything else. He was warm and clammy, like he was going to sweat himself out of his skin. The fever made him anxious. Everything made him anxious, and he was afraid he had been infected.

His illness didn’t escape Felix. Locus noticed Felix shying away from him, staring when he thought Locus didn’t notice, and giving short, curt answers when Locus attempted conversation.

“Felix,” he said, reaching for his partner’s arm. He could feel Felix tensing under him, and Locus felt Felix’s pulse under his fingers. They were too in the open for a confrontation. He should have waited, he told himself, until they found shelter for the night. But he had to speak of the nagging anxieties in the back of his mind. “Please don’t hide yourself from me.”

It was the most intimate thing he could think to say in this situation, and he watched as Felix’s body heaved a sigh. He let his grip go slack and let Felix turn, his partner nestling against him. He was hesitant to wrap his arms around Felix, to let his guard down in such an open area. He could hear the growls of the dead from far away. How far, he didn’t know.

He held Felix anyway.

“You promised you’ve never leave me,” Felix said, reminding Locus of their first night of intimacy. He remembered Felix’s tears and his desperate attempts to steer Locus from the emotional outburst.

“I won’t,” Locus assured.

“I’m just reminding you.”

That said, Felix pulled away, and Locus let him.

* * *

That night, Felix left.

Where he went, Locus had no clue, but when he returned he was drunk. Drunk, and a fresh bite wound on his leg.

“It’s not that bad,” Felix slurred as he let Locus tend to his wound. “Stop worrying over me. Not like I can turn.”

“It only takes one mutation,” Locus told him, voice soft as he cleaned up the bite wound with disinfectant. Locus paused to cough into his arm, wiping at his red eyes. He looked up to see Felix avoiding his gaze. “I wish you had let me go with you.”

“I just wanted booze.” Felix still had the bottle of vodka in his hands, and Locus lamented it. They could have used it, he thought, for wounds, or for literally anything other than getting drunk. “I wanted to stop having feelings.”

“Emotions are a normal part of the human experience, Felix,” Locus assured, his voice rather insistant.

“Shut up, you fucking gay robot.” Felix slapped a hand over his face and groaned. His hand slid over his face, fingers dragging down. “It must be so easy not _feeling_ things. Ugh.”

Locus managed to stifle a smile, hand covering his mouth. He avoided Felix’s unsteady gaze, pulling his partner’s pant leg down to cover his bandage. “There. You’re cleaned up. Please be more careful next time.”

He pulled away, ready to unroll the sleeping bags so they could get some sleep. Felix looked like he would need water the next morning, and lots of it. Locus was prepared not to let him get into the painkillers. He wasn’t about to waste valuable medicine on Felix’s hangover.

“I was going to kill you.”

Locus paused, turning to look at Felix making eye contact with the vodka bottle. He waited, halted in place, for Felix to elaborate. He didn’t expel the cough lounging in his chest, waiting for his partner to speak. He felt like the world had gone still.

“Like, when we first met. I was going to kill you.” Felix lifted the bottle to his lips, still not able to meet Locus’ eyes. “And steal all your stuff. That’s my game, you know. Befriend small groups or one person, kill them, steal all their junk. Survive another day.”

Locus nodded along. He couldn’t hold the coughs back anymore and turned away from Felix. His chest burned, feeling heavy on his body. When he looked back to Felix he could see guilt in his partner. Guilt. It was a strange concept to see in Felix.

“And I put so much effort into getting you to trust me-” Felix dropped the bottle of vodka. He held his face in both hands and groaned into his palms. “And I thought you were just going to be another long con, because I figured I could milk this, you’re a good shot, you’re good at what you do, and-”

Locus couldn’t say he was shocked. He wasn’t even hurt. He had known Felix was suspicious, and he knew that Felix was only telling him half of what he was feeling.

“I don’t know.” Felix pulled his knees up, and Locus examined his trembling hands. “And now you’re going to die.”

The way Felix said it, so unflinching and reserved, unnerved Locus. “I’m not going to die,” he assured Felix. His recent illness was just that, an illness. Locus would prefer to blame the spring pollen. Allergies could sum up his ill feelings the past two days.

“Growing up I had a lot of fish.” Locus didn’t question the change in subject. He just watched as Felix went on, babbling into his hands, “And I would always pinch them by the tails and hold them right above the water, or I would hold them in one place under the water, because I- I don’t know, I was a fucking shitfaced kid who didn’t know how fucked up that was to do. And they all died. Every single one of them.

“When I was ten I killed my pet bird.”

Locus was intrigued by the morbid track Felix seemed stuck on, but he indulged his curiosity. “Why?”

“Not on purpose. It was my dad’s bird, not mine…” Felix was hiding behind his hands, curled in on himself. “And he loved that bird. And I was just a kid, alright, like, nine or ten, I don’t remember.” Felix was slowly pulling back, until he was staring at his hands, laid out against his knees, like there was blood on them. “But I was just a stupid kid, and I killed it, and I didn’t mean to.

“And my dad was _so_ mad. I didn’t hide it or anything, I showed him, I thought maybe he wouldn’t be as upset if I just told him.” Felix paused, and looked up at Locus. “Do you know what he told me?”

“What?” Locus asked, slowly shifting to sit beside Felix.

“He told me that I kill everything I touch.” Felix hung his head, resting his forehead against his knees. “Do you know how fucked up that is to tell a kid? Do you know how bad that fucked me up?”

“You think you kill everything you touch?” Locus asked, trying to ease an arm around Felix and comfort him any way he could.

Felix shoved his arm away. “I do kill everything I touch. Everyone I loved is dead now, and- and I don’t even know why.” Felix tried to jump to his feet, and barely managed to leap without grace against the nearest wall. “And now you’re going to die, because I love you.”

Locus’ chest ached with Felix’s confession. “Felix,” he whispered, worried for his partner. “I’m not going to die.”

“Yes you are! You’re going to turn! They all turn!”

“Felix. Sleep. You need rest.” Felix was crying and Locus hurt to see him so upset. He helped Felix lay down onto his sleeping back, and gently rolled him into it. “Turn onto your side, in case you puke.”

“Shut up,” Felix said as he slowly curled in on himself. “Stop caring about me. You’ll die.”

Locus sighed and brushed a hand over Felix’s hair as he finally settled down, still mumbling. “I love you too, Felix.”

* * *

Locus’ illness was worsening. He was fatigued, chest congested and eyes red. His fever made him sweat, made him feel like he needed to crawl out of his skin. He hid it as best he could, but he knew Felix watched with lingering gazes, watching him shake when he cleaned his gun and his knees lock up when he stood. 

He counted back on the days his symptoms had started. Six days ago. He couldn’t be turning, he thought, he would have turned by now if he had caught the virus. He had nothing to worry about. It was the flu- it had to be.

Felix had cut himself off emotionally, and Locus ached to rekindle that connection they had. When they stopped their travels for a break, one of many throughout the day, Locus reached for Felix’s hand.

“What?” he asked. Felix turned his head away, pulling his hand free.

“I love you.”

Felix was quiet, briefly meeting Locus’ eyes before he turned away. “No you don’t.”

* * *

Locus knew the acceptance came to him too late. He was panting, body cold and shaking as he felt his body dying. He held his head in both hands, groaning. Felix was still asleep, and he wanted nothing more than to wake him and tell him to run, but god, he couldn’t even speak. 

There was an aching hunger in him. It burned at his stomach, into his chest and made him feel like his brain was on fire. His ragged breaths sounded harsh, and he could hear the slightest sounds from the scraping of a squirrel on the roof of their small hovel, and the moans of the other dead outside.

He could hear Felix’s heartbeat. He could smell the sumptuous scent of his flesh and the hunger only worsened. He could feel Felix’s pulse in the skin pressed against him, and Locus did the only thing he could think of.

He took a bite.


End file.
